His eyes bore right through me as I sit to start eating my pancakes before they get cold. Gage joins me with his ownstack that he hilariously drowns in syrup, and we eat in companionable silence while we let the caffeine kick in. I like that he doesn’t try to talk too much before we’re fully awake.
As I reach forward to grab my coffee mug, sharp pain radiates through my lower stomach again. It’s impossible to hold back a wince, which of course gets Gage’s attention. My apparent pattern of him seeing me vulnerable continues, and it’s unnerving how much I’m starting to not mind it so much. Keeping my armor up gets exhausting, so the fact that he sees the cracks and doesn’t exploit them gives me some rest.
“What is it?”
The question is soft and concerned in his sleepy voice.
I wave him off dismissively.
“It’s the endometriosis. My favorite time of the month is here, and apparently the hormones and painkillers are only getting me so far. It’s not as bad as it was last month, but it’s not fun.”
He frowns deeply, and it’s disorienting since I’ve only ever seen him smile.
“I put in the paperwork to get you on my insurance right away after we FaceTimed on Friday to fill it out together. It might take a few weeks to go through, but then we’ll get you feeling better. If the meds aren’t working you might need surgery like my cousin.”
I grimace.
“That’s what I’m afraid of, but this can’t go on.”
“What do you need? I have a heating pad if that would help. I kept one here for my cousin when she was going through this, and it also helps my lower back sometimes when I’ve been on my feet all day.”
My instinct is to balk, to get it myself. I really don’twant to move, though, and he’s been asking to let him take care of me. This pain is making me pathetic, it seems.
“That would help, actually. I don’t have one, I borrowed Tania’s and left it at her place,” I concede.
“I’ll go get it,” he says, immediately loping out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
“It could have waited until you finished eating, you know!” I call after him with a laugh.
“Not when my dear wife is in pain!” he shouts back down the stairs.
“You’re hilarious, husband!” I shout back.
It feels good to joke about our arrangement, because it makes the whole thing feel less awkward and keeps how unserious we are about it in perspective. He pounds down the steps within a minute, triumphantly brandishing the heating pad. Plugging it in by the coffee machine, he turns it on and wraps it in a kitchen towel before handing it to me.
“Thanks,” I murmur. Once it heats up and I put it on my lower stomach, the relief seeps through me like a balm.
“Better?” Gage asks.
“Yeah, thanks again,” I tell him gratefully.
“Look at you, letting me take care of you a little,” he says with a teasing wink.
“If the pain wasn’t incapacitating me, I’d get it myself,” I retort, but I can’t keep my lips from twitching. He sees it, and his warm eyes spark with amusement. That look makes me fidget, causing our bare feet to brush under the table, sending heat and awareness right through me. Damn my body for responding to him, and making me weak. His eyes have also gone heated when I look at him, but it passes in a blink before he clears his throat.
“What time did you say you need to be at the shelter again? Will you be ok to go?”
“Eleven, so I have a little time to get ready. I’ve done diner shifts in worse pain than this. The heating pad helps a lot, and animals are perfect for pain management,” I say. He nods, but still looks dubious.
“I just want to get this community service under my belt as quickly as I can, even though I enjoy it. I’ll be fine,” I reassure him. After we idly chat a little more, I take my last few bites of pancakes and get up to help clean before leaving for the shelter. We move around each other easily in the kitchen as we get everything put away, the birds being wonderful helpers as they playfully try to steal utensils.
I dash upstairs for a quick shower, throw on jean shorts and a nautical striped boatneck tee, drag a brush through my hair, and dab on some minimal makeup. With a hasty goodbye wave to Gage, Hermes, and Daisy, I head to the animal shelter.
My focus is on the road and the angry rock music I’m blasting, although my mind keeps wandering to my new husband. It’s unnerving how easily he’s able to make me feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable, make me laugh, make my stomach flip. He’s always had that effect on me since I met him, but it’s tenfold now that we’re living together. Eventually we’re both going to combust with all of this dancing around each other, either in the best or worst way. That’s a problem for future Celeste to figure out.
When I walk into the shelter, I hear the usual ruckus of barking and whining. I love coming here, but it also kills me to see these poor dogs needing homes. Some of them have been through the wringer, and I feel a special kinship with them. It’s why animal shelters are such a popular community service activity for sentencing. Both the humans and animals know what it is to experience trauma, and there isso much healing in working with each other. I wish I could take them all.
I check in with the pretty middle aged lady at the front desk so that my hours are recorded, and start my work checking the cages. Once everyone has all of the food and water they need, I get a small group of dogs ready to go on a walk to the park nearby. The sidewalk pavement feels just cool enough for it to not hurt their paws when I check, even though it’s cloudy today with a threat of rain. The pittie mix of the group immediately starts rolling around in the grass when we reach the park. The lab mix follows suit, but the dainty spaniel mix stays by my side like the lady she is.